Pyro Storm rocketed away, cape trailing behind him, the air burning.
Shadow Star stared after him for a moment before he shook his head. He glanced back at the chopper, saluted the camera, then leapt from the roof and disappeared from sight.
Nick watched the screen, slack-jawed, even as Rebecca Firestone breathlessly said that she’d never seen such a fight, and though damage to property was minimal, it appeared that things were escalating. “I’ll have to see if Shadow Star is willing to talk about this latest attack by Pyro Storm. If he is, you’ll hear it here first. This is Rebecca Firestone, Action News.”
9
Rebecca Firestone didn’t speak with Shadow Star, even on the last broadcast at ten.
Dad had texted, saying everything was fine.
Seth didn’t text at all.
* * *
By the time the front door opened early the next morning, Nick was already showered and dressed, standing in the kitchen, trying to figure out how he managed to burn toast when it was on the lowest setting. He hadn’t been distracted, not really, so it must have been a faulty toaster.
Dad looked tired, his duty belt sagging around his waist, bags under his eyes. He yawned when he came into the kitchen, blinking blearily as he went to the coffee maker that was programmed to start brewing at four in the morning. He poured himself a cup of decaf—keeping it black, much to Nick’s disgust—took a sip, and sighed.
Then he seemed to notice Nick.
He frowned.
Nick smiled.
Dad looked down at his watch, then back up at Nick. He saw the burnt toast on a plate, and the bowl of oatmeal with fruit already sitting on the table.
He said, “Hey.”
“Hi,” Nick said, smiling wider.
“What did you do?”
Nick scowled at him. “I didn’t do anything.”
Dad took another sip of liquid death. “You’re up—and dressed—before I even got home. You made breakfast—”
“You’re welcome, though the toast is burnt and the oatmeal is lumpy for reasons I don’t want to discuss.”
“—and I don’t think this has ever happened before. Ever.”
“Can’t a son do something nice for his hardworking father without there being a hidden agenda?”
Dad waited.
“It’s altruistic,” Nick insisted.
Dad snorted. “Is that right?”
“Yes. The fact that you think I would do something nice for untoward reasons is frankly offensive. I will accept your apology when you’re ready to give it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dad said. “Burnt toast and lumpy oatmeal?”
Nick shrugged. “It could have been worse. It’s probably best that we don’t discuss what happened to the eggs I tried making first.”
“Is that what that smell is?”
“Yeah. Apparently no matter how much Febreeze one sprays, that egg smell tends to stick around. Who knew? Sit! Take a load off!”
Dad did just that, sliding off his duty belt and placing it on the counter.
Nick grabbed a chair and dragged it next to his dad’s. He sat, elbows on the table, and watched his father closely.
Dad looked like he was trying not to be amused but failed miserably.
He swirled the oatmeal. It wasn’t as lumpy as it’d been moments before, much to Nick’s relief. He watched as Dad took a bite. “Good?”
Dad nodded. “Good. Thanks, kid.”
“You’re welcome.”
Nick waited, because it was the right thing to do.
“This about yesterday?”
“Absolutely not. I’m a teenager. Sometimes I’m late, and it can’t be avoided.”
“Uh-huh. See that it doesn’t happen again.”
Nick pushed the plate of toast toward his dad’s hand.
Dad took a bite. It was mostly blackened, but it didn’t seem like he had to choke it down, so Nick was pleased.
He waited until his dad swallowed before he said, “Now that you’ve had an opportunity to come home and relax, a question, if I may?”
“There it is.”
“It’s just a question.”
“What happened to being altruistic?”
“There are strawberries in your oatmeal. That seems pretty selfless to me.”
“Oh boy.” Dad wiped his mouth with a napkin before leaning back in his chair. “Okay, hit me with it.”
That was easier than Nick had expected. “There was an … event. In Nova City yesterday.”
“Was there? Seems to me there were many events. Nova City is a pretty big place.”
Aggravating, that was what he was. He was good, but Nick was better. “Absolutely. But I couldn’t help but notice that you had to go in early yesterday afternoon, right around the time that this particular event was beginning to take place.”
“Interesting.”
“Quite. Now, if I were a betting man—”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. Betting child, maybe.”
“—betting man, I would think those two things were related.”